


a different kind of tension

by sarcasticfishes



Category: Watcher Entertainment RPF
Genre: Dirty Talk, Fantasy, Multi, honestly idk, misuse of the professor (jk)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:47:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27646361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticfishes/pseuds/sarcasticfishes
Summary: Something innocuous gets Sara worked up.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Sara Rubin, Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej/Sara Rubin, Shane Madej/Sara Rubin
Comments: 24
Kudos: 69





	a different kind of tension

**Author's Note:**

> honestly i am just purging my wips to make space in my brain for fresh stuff, but i think this works as a little one-shot slice of life type thing.

Sara half expects the office to be empty when she stops by on the way home, but as she cracks open the door she can see the silhouette of Ryan at his infamous standing desk, headphones jammed firmly over his head and ballcap. She has enough self-preservation to know not to touch him when he thinks he’s alone here, and instead slides her phone out of the pocket of her dress to shoot him a warning text.

_I’m behind you don’t freak out._

On the desk, Ryan’s phone lights up, and he does a double-take and picks it up to read it. He still startles ever so slightly, looking over his shoulder to see her peering in at him, but it’s far better than the possibility of the elbow to the gut she’d pictured originally. Ryan slides his headphones off, letting them hang around his neck as he turns to face her.

“What if I’d been a serial killer?” she asks, and Ryan’s eyes widen even as he grins at her.

“Guess I gotta start locking that door when I’m here after hours.”

Sara laughs, tucks her phone back into her pocket and folds her arms over her chest.

“Or you could go home at a normal time like the rest of the gang.”

Ryan’s nose wrinkles, but he doesn’t argue with her, just sits back against the surface of the desk and pulls his headphones away altogether, setting them aside. It looks like he’s working on a Watcher Weekly, maybe making review notes for one of the new editors. It’s not an urgent job.

“Shane went home pretty early,” Ryan says, plucking at the hem of his shirt, something he does to busy his hands, Sara’s noticed. “He had that dental appointment?”

Sara nods, she’d gotten a text from Shane during his Lyft home. From what she could tell, he’d been pretty zonked after his appointment and was going home to nap for approximately three hours.

“I’m just here to pick up The Professor,” Sara smiles, tilting her head towards the end of the room and Ryan whips his head around to look at where Shane’s beloved puppet sits atop their cabinets.

“Oh! Yeah, he said something about taking him home for the weekend.”

“Our apartment is covered in American Girl Doll clothes,” Sara admits. “It’s a little disturbing. The hats look incredibly cute on Obi though.”

“I bet,” Ryan says, and he sounds genuine even though Sara knows he’s not terribly fond of cats in general. She has a sneaking suspicion that he has a soft spot for the Obiman, despite his best efforts. “Alright, lemme get him down for you, I’ll just grab the… ladder.”

Ryan looks around in confusion as he trails off. There is no ladder.

“Where’s the ladder?” Sara asks.

“I have no idea,” Ryan says idly, and then swings past Sara to look out into the hallway outside of the office. “Huh. Maybe Anthony took it? I— Guess I just gotta climb up on the counter.”

“Oh, wow, no,” Sara frowns, eyes darting nervously between Ryan and the countertop, “I don’t think it can support weight like that.”

Gingerly, he tests the countertop with his palm, pressing down on it, and Sara hears the creak.

“Okay, yeah, definitely not load-bearing,” Ryan says, and Sara laughs when he makes a face at her, mouth pulled into an exaggerated frown. He turns around, stretches up on his tiptoes to reach for the puppet — and doesn’t come anywhere near grabbing him.

“I saw _Shane_ put him up there using the ladder, Ry,” Sara points out, and Ryan makes that face at her again, more of a scowl this time.

“I can dream, can’t I?” he says, hands on his hips. “Okay so roll me over one of the chairs, I’ll stand on it.”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’ll be fine!”

“Ryan, it’s Friday night, I absolutely do not want to sit here and cradle your bleeding head while we wait for an ambulance to arrive. Y’know, when you inevitably fall off and crack your skull open?”

Ryan blinks dramatically at her, and Sara has to press her lips tight together to hold in her laugh. 

“Moving quickly past that, what do you suggest we do?” Ryan asks her, also looking as though he’s holding back a laugh. Sara shakes her head, rubs her eyes beneath the frames of her glasses. It’s Friday night, she’s mostly been looking forward to ordering in dinner, drinking some wine, and putting silly hats on Obi while Shane took pictures.

“I dunno. I’ll just tell Shane that we can come in for him tomorrow. I just— told him I could pick it up, but he’ll understand.”

“Absolutely not,” Ryan echoes her earlier statement. “If he finds out neither of us could get that puppet down, he’ll never let us live it down.”

“He’ll never let _you_ live it down.”

“And you’ll have to suffer the knowledge that you’ve lain this burden on me!” Ryan exclaims, and Sara can’t hold in her laughter anymore, bending at the waist as she laughs aloud, hands on her hips to mirror Ryan’s pose. He’s so wonderfully indignant

“Okay, okay,” she shakes her head. “You have an idea?”

“Think you could reach if I lifted you up on my shoulders?” Ryan asks, so earnestly, and Sara has no doubt that he could lift her any way he wanted.

“Uh— maybe, yeah,” she says, and is suddenly struck by the very visceral thought of having her legs around Ryan’s neck. “Maybe just give me a little boost first, before we go full hog.”

Sara sets her keys and phone from her dress pockets onto a nearby desk and steps forward. Ryan doesn’t give her much time to mentally prepare, just stoops down and wraps his arms around her thighs over her dress, and lifts her straight up with the slightest grunt of effort.

Sara balances herself with one hand against his shoulder and reaches with the other, but she still just not tall enough. Ryan’s holding her tight and steady, one arm hooked around the bend of her knees and the other across the backs of her thighs, but his face is more level with her chest and abdomen.

“I can’t reach it,” she whines, and Ryan huffs quietly, starting to set her back down again. He— hadn’t seemed to be struggling to hold her, but his face is just a shade redder than before.

“You were close though. You want to try and sit on my shoulders?”

Sara hesitates, again slammed by the imagery the simple sentence provides. She’s not exactly wearing the longest dress in the world.

“Or not,” Ryan says when she doesn’t answer right away.

“Oh— no,” Sara fumbles, “No I was just trying to remember if I really am afraid of heights or not.”

“Never sat on Shane’s shoulders?”

There’s a hint of curiosity there, or something that Sara can’t exactly put her finger on. It’s interesting, though.

“Are you kidding? We’d topple over like a Jenga tower.”

This, at least, gets a smile out of Ryan again. He crouches down before her and turns to show her his back. There’s something strangely reverent about it.

“I’ll stand up slowly, and if you don’t like it we’ll just call it a night and Shane can come get The Professor tomorrow. I’ll take the L.”

“Okay,” Sara says faintly, and thinks that her not ‘liking it’ is not the problem she’s about to face. Carefully, she moves one of her legs over Ryan’s shoulder, and then sort of hops a little bit to get the other one over too without losing her balance. It’s inelegant, but it works, and it’s enough of an ordeal to distract her from what’s actually happening. Ryan brings his hands up around her thighs, this time skin-on-skin as he wraps his fingers around her, holding her steady.

“Alright?” He says, and begins to stand at Sara’s answering hum of affirmation.

Gravity does its job, and Sara slides forward just into the nape of Ryan’s neck. She wobbles slightly, one hand on his head and the other on his arm for balance, and for a moment all she can feel is the heat of his neck on her inner thighs, and the grasp of his fingers. He bears all of her weight with ease, and for a moment Sara forgets what they’re even doing until he turns his face to the side very slightly and asks, “Can you reach?”

“Oh! yeah,” Sara lets go of his arm, still resting her other palm on the crown of his head for balance as she reaches up and easily plucks The Professor from the top of the shelf. “I got him.”

“Thank god,” Ryan laughs, and squeezes her leg gently before starting to lower himself into a crouch again, and it’s easiest for Sara just to step forward right over his head, so she does it. He probably gets a clear look right up her skirt as she does so, but she finds at that moment that she doesn’t really care. “Alright, mission complete,” Ryan says as he straightens up. Sara clutches The Professor to her chest with one hand, reaches for her phone and keys with the other.

“Thank you, Ryan,” she says, and Ryan beams at her, hair slightly more tousled than usual, cheeks bright and pink.

“No prob,” he shrugs, and ducks past her to his desk and she watches him start saving his projects and closing down his software. “Thank _you_ for breaking me out of my editing coma. I’d have probably stayed here all night if you hadn’t come by.”

“You’re telling me the Bergmeister has no Friday night plans?” Sara scoffs, and Ryan looks at her, smiling, his face just a little too open for it to come across as a joke when he shrugs.

“I’m afraid so,” he says, and shuts the lid of his laptop. “Unless walking you to your car counts as plans?”

Sara doesn’t know what on earth possesses her to say it, but the words are out of her mouth before she can help it.

“Come home with me,” she says, and immediately hears the sentence back in her head. “Um. You know what I mean.”

“You and Shane don’t have plans?” Ryan asks, suspicion in his voice, like he thinks it’s a trick or he’s already intruding.

“Ordering in food and watching TV,” Sara shrugs. “The more the merrier. I was gonna have a drink maybe.”

Ryan’s quiet as he packs away his things, and for a desperate minute Sara thinks she’s fucked it all up, and she can’t quite pinpoint how.

“That sounds really nice,” Ryan says, softly, shouldering his backpack. “I’d— yeah I’d like to come over and hang out.”

“Good,” Sara says, relieved, and when she gets closer Ryan reaches out to squeeze her wrist. “Follow me in your car?”

“I’ve driven to your place before,” Ryan points out, with a raised eyebrow, “I know the way.”

“Yeah but I wanna look in my rearview and pretend I have a stalker,” Sara says, as flatly as she can manage, and then cracks a grin when Ryan barks out a laugh at her.

“Okay weirdo,” he says, and she knows she not imagining the fondness in his tone. “Lead the way.”

.

Shane’s already lounging on the sectional when Sara steps into the living room, and he gives Ryan a quick double-take but sits up, grinning one he realizes who’s following Sara in.

“Hey, didn’t know we were having a guest,” he says, warmly, and Ryan’s face scrunches up into an awkward grimace.

“Sara took pity on me. You don’t mind?”

“Of course not,” Shane shrugs, “I was just about to order in so you got here just in time.”

“I’m thinking Greek,” Sara says, kicking her shoes off by the door and shrugging out of her jacket. “Order for me while I change, will you?” she calls, and doesn’t wait for a response. Their spare-bedroom-slash-office

In the walk-in closet just off the bedroom, she shrugs out of her dress, and grabs a t-shirt from the shelf. Pulling on some leggings, she notes a mottled red mark on the inside of her knee and pauses to run her fingers over it. It’s not unusual for Sara to end up with strange splotches at the end of the day, her skin is so sensitive and pale enough to show marks from say, bumping into a desk or catching herself on a chair. This, on her knee, is almost like a small rash, almost faded now — but touching it brings back a sense memory.

Ryan, turning his face so slightly. His jaw moving as he asked “ _Can you reach_?” and the scrape of two-day-old stubble on her skin. Something she hadn’t been able to fully process in the moment, but the recollection of it absolutely rocks her now.

Quickly, she pulls on her leggings, and joins the boys back in the living room. Ryan and Shane are on the couch together now, with Ryan peering over Shane’s shoulder as he orders food on his phone.

Later, when they finally settle down with their food to watch the latest Netflix drivel, Shane cups his hand around Sara’s knee, and she feels the phantom sting again when his fingers press into her skin.

.

She wakes up during the night, a sweaty and confused mess, as Shane turns over and drapes his arm over her waist. He snuffles sleepily into her ear, but she can hear the smile in his voice when he asks, “Having a nice dream?” 

Sara squirms against him, can't help it, she needs some kind of friction between her thighs. Shane's hand slides down her belly, and she realises how wet she is. 

“Oh,” Shane says, when he feels her, large palm and long fingers cupping her through her damp panties. He presses with his middle finger, and Sara whimpers, rolling forward into him. “Wanna tell me about it?” _Or do you just want to get off?_ His unspoken question. 

Heat pools in Sara gut as she remembers exactly what she'd been dreaming about, and parts her thighs for Shane's hand. He kisses her shoulder softly and hooks his finger into the seat of her panties, pulling them aside to run his fingertip down along her lips.

Sara's almost embarrassed to say anything — but she tells Shane everything, why should this be any different? 

“It was Ryan,” she says. 

Shane falters, but only for a moment, pausing his teasing passes. It's so hard for Sara not to whine, to chase into his hand. Shane makes a considering noise into her shoulder, and then starts to rub her again slowly, this time pressing a little harder and slipping between her folds. She can hear how wet she is. 

"What'd he do that's got you so worked up?” Shane asks, and Sara doesn't know if he means the dream, or— he _has_ to mean the dream, right? 

Sara exhales shakily as his fingertip circles her opening, teasing her with just the tip of it. Usually, when she wants something, he doesn't drag it out so much. He should already be knuckles deep in her, he should already be fucking her. 

Maybe he's as acutely aware of Ryan in the spare room as she is. 

“Did he eat you out?” Shane asks, lips on the shell of her ear as he pushes a finger in, just one to start, almost a tease of what's to come. “He'd be good at that. He's got a pretty mouth, knows how to use it.” 

That's a nugget of information that pings Sara's radar.

“You think about his mouth often?” she asks, and Shane huffs out a soft chuckle. 

“I look at it every day, don't I?” 

There's a bolt of heat that spears through Sara, making her gasp, filling her body with hot, fizzing energy, and she parts her legs wider for Shane's hand. She can feel him now, hard against her and rolling gently in time with his finger inside of her. She wants him, wants all of him filling her up. 

"He was holding me down," she whispers, finally answering the question. "Fucking me. He's so strong, Shane. I want you to fuck me."

It's easy then, Shane takes his hand from between her thighs and uses it to flip her over by her hip as he climbs on top of her. He's big, heavy, so fucking warm over her. Even though his cock is nothing to laugh at, he slides inside so easy, and groans quietly into her ear as she takes him. Sara forgets about the dream when he looks down at her, hair falling in front of his eyes, mouth parted softly with the pleasure of being inside her. He's always looked so good when he's fucking her. He's always looked so good. 

They have to be quiet. Shane takes one look at Sara as she's biting her lip and covers her mouth with his, letting himself sink into her, cover her. He holds her wrists in his hands, and well, Ryan may be strong but Shane is strong too.

It's enough, the way he grinds into her, the lightest pressure against her clit, his grip around her delicate wrists. It doesn't take her long to come at all, and her legs shake even as they grip around Shane's waist, tucking up into his ribs. He follows her, grinding turning to frantic thrusts at the last moment before he buries himself inside her, and comes sighing into her mouth. Sara floats, as Shane pushes himself up and rolls over next to her, grunting softly. 

"What time is it?" he asks, face half turned into the pillow. Sara reaches over for her phone, surprised as she checks the time. 

"Six," she says and realizes that, sure enough, the sky is lightening around the edges of the bedroom blind. Shane curls up next to her, arm draped over her waist. 

"Should we get up?" he asks. It's a little earlier than their usual Saturday morning. He's so warm against her, she thinks she could bear to wait until the sun rises. 

"Not yet," she says, softly, "Let me bask." 

.

Sara must fall asleep again, because when she opens her eyes next it’s bright out and Shane is nowhere to be seen. It’s not often that he wakes before her, but she follows the sounds of kitchenware clinking to find him in the kitchen. Ryan is sitting at the breakfast nook, still in his clothes from last night. His hair is a little flat on one side.

He’s so pretty. It’s not the first time she’s thought that.

“Morning, favorite guys,” Sara says, and stretches on her tippy toes to kiss Shane’s cheek. He’s slicing some avocado very carefully.

“Aw,” Ryan says, softly, and Sara realizes that Obi is nowhere in sight and she has in fact just addressed Ryan and Shane as her ‘favorite guys’. “Morning Sara.”

Shane just smiles at her, peering from his peripheral.

“Good morning, Sara,” he says, knowing.


End file.
